


Lose Control

by HiMiTSu



Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice
Genre: Drunk Lex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 21:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7191038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiMiTSu/pseuds/HiMiTSu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For anon prompt on tumblr: Clark dealing with a drunk Lex at a party</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> At some point Follow Me Into The Jungle came on my playlist while I was writing. So all the drunk Lex happens to this song in my head

At some point Follow Me Into The Jungle came on my playlist while I was writing. So all the drunk Lex happens to this song in my head.

 

The party was wild even by a crazy rocker standards. Clark honestly had no idea how he was supposed to interview the celebrities who were ranging from ‘on the wrong side of tipsy’ to ‘outrageously drunk’. Jimmy joked that they probably could pull all the secrets out of these people and they wouldn’t even remember any of it the next day. How the hell did a book presentation turn into this was a mystery that would most likely go forever unsolved; it certainly felt like he had turned away just for a second and everyone went from serious to hard party mode. The abundance of liquor definitely didn’t help, as well as the sudden strobe lights in what at first seemed to be a serious congress hall.

The heat was unbearable as Clark wound his way through a mass of dancing bodies, carefully evading a groping hand or two and sidestepping a movie star who tried to make out with him. There really wasn’t anything for him to do, but his editor would be furious if Clark left and missed anything noteworthy.

“You know what’s the most ridiculous thing about this is?” He shouted over the music to Jimmy, who was trying to catch a couple good shots. It wasn’t working well, seeing how he was equipped to shoot a gala, not an orgy under strobe lights.

“I have a feeling you are about to tell me.”

“If nothing truly atrocious happens – and I’m talking an attack of a huge lizard level of horrible – all I’m going to write is how this distinguished people were all nice and noble and supported the author.”

“Well they are very supportive.” Jimmy commented. “One of them even lets her do body shots off him.”

Clark groaned and ran a hand over his face. This was a nightmare. At times like this he wished he could get drunk – at least then he wouldn’t be feeling so out of place in this crowd. He was sweating in a shirt and a jacket and the glasses continued sliding down his nose every five minutes.

“I’ll get some water,” he warned Jimmy before heading for the bar. It was a huge neon contraption along the back wall of the room – a center of attention for almost half of the patrons, the second half occupying dance floor.

Clark had to shove his way through, still gentle though, reining in his irritation. He managed to reach the bar without incidents, a crowd stepping away to join the dancing and he was lucky enough to get their place; Clark thought he could take a breath and let his guard down a little. The barman quirked an eyebrow at Clark’s order of water but complied with surprising efficiency – seeing how another group had just decked by the other end of the bar and was asking for more alcohol. Very vigorously.

The glass was cold in his hand, promising so wanted refreshment, and Clark lifted it to his lips…only to have the water spilled all over the front  of his shirt when a body crashed into his side. Instead of a slurred sorry he got a distorted “Clark Kent!” shouted in his ear and clingy hands grabbing his shoulders. Heavy weight dragged him down as the person practically hung onto him in a careless hug.

“Clark. Claaaaaark,” a happy voice purred while the drunken stranger (but no, not really a stranger, there was no way Clark would not recognize that voice) rubbed his cheek on his shoulder. “Clarky.”

“Hello, Mr. Luthor.” Clark said stiffly and tried to turn around and dislodge the drunk billionaire at the same time.

“No, no, no, no, no!” A finger waved in front of Clark’s face hit him on the nose accidentally and then pressed on the tip with more purpose. “You should call me Lex. We have been through so much together!” A happy grin split his face and Lex Luthor grabbed onto Clark’s neck preparing for another hug.

Clark kept him at bay, careful not to hurt but firm still. Lex struggled and flailed madly; his bony hands clung to Clark’s shirt with unexpected strength and, unable to step up instead he dragged the journalist closer until his head was firmly planted against Clark’s chest.

“This is nice.” He muttered to Clark’s pecs while his hand trailed all over the muscular torso. Lex rubbed his cheek on the rough fabric of Clark’s cheap shirt and sighed contentedly. “I want to stay here forever.”

“Please don’t,” Clark squeaked, not sure if he was addressing Lex’s words of his wandering hands. Nails dragged down his shirt front until they stopped at his belt.

“Clarky,” Lex’s voice sang melodiously as hazy eyes looked up at him from under heavy pale lashes. He blinked very slowly, as in a daze, and bit on his bottom lip. Full and dark red from abuse it stuck out in a pout. “Would you like to play with me?” A smirk stretched those lips next, wicked and promising, and Clark had to fight down a shiver. “Would you like to come with me?”

With horror Clark realized that Lex’s foot was rubbing against his calf, the CEO practically trying to climb him like a tree…and wasn’t that a very unfortunate turn of phrase?

Lex’s left leg wound around Clark’s shin, the gesture so awkward on someone this drunk Lex almost fell over but grabbed onto Clark’s shoulders to steady himself. This seemed to distract him for a moment; elegant fingers running over Clark’s collarbone, their touch feather light as they played him like the most delicate piano. It was distracting. And absolutely unacceptable, Clark had to remind himself sternly.

“Mr. Luthor.” He protested. Ridiculously, it was so easy to call the redhead ‘Lex’ in his head, but whenever Clark addressed him verbally only the formal greeting slipped out. “You should stop.”

“But I’m having so much fun!” Lex exclaimed in an enthusiastic whisper against Clark’s neck. As words that fell from his lips his breath warmed Clark’s skin, unintentionally sexual and unexpectedly arousing. Clark’s breath caught and he gave himself a moment – a second – to enjoy the heat of the body pressed to his so intimately, Lex’s tempting smirk and the glint in his eyes. The way fat beads of sweat rolled down his temple and the pulse beat widely at his collarbone in time with the heavy bass of the music. Lex ran a hand through his hair, unruly strands pushed back from his forehead, and swayed back with the movement. Clark saw his lips fall open on a breath as Lex let go of him and let his body fall in with the wild melody reigning over them.

Unable to stay away Clark moved in, winding his hands around Lex’s slight frame. His palms slid under the pale blue jacket, over the white shirt, wet with sweat. Lex’s body would not stop writhing to the music. He arched his back and swung his hips and ran a hand up Clark’s neck to bring them close.

“Now this is more fun.” Lex’s smile flashed under the strobe lights, wicked.

Clark knew what was going to happen next, saw it in Lex’s eyes, that heavy gaze under the lowered lashes. He was beautiful like this: loose and open with his mind and body, tantalizing in this drunken daze. The usual nervousness and stumbling all gone, leaving only easy languid grace.

Pulling away was incredibly hard but Clark jerked aside a moment before Lex’s lips touched his. A pretty pout was irresistible, and still he knew he should not give in.

“Clark…” Lex wined, bouncing on his tip toes.

“That’s not a good idea.” Clark admonished.

“Why?” The redhead bit his lip while his fingers ruffled Clark’s hair. “I like Clark.”

That may be even true, but even if you do like this side of me, you hate the other, Clark thought. Out loud, he said. “You won’t feel the same in the morning.”

“That’s stupid.”

“No, it’s not.” Clark carefully pulled Lex’s fingers from his hair and gently pushed the other away. Clasping Lex’s elegant hands in his palms he said imploringly. “You should go home.”

Lex’s eyes fixed on their hands, trapped between them, “I don’t…don’t…” He started mumbling while shaking his head. Red locks obscured his face and it was hard to tell what was running through his head. Nothing good, probably.

“Call me tomorrow.” Clark said, surprising them both. “If you still feel the same way.”

Lex’s eyes narrowed. “Tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Clark smiled at his puzzled expression. Impulsively, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “Tomorrow.”

With that Clark slipped away into the crowd. He couldn’t find Jimmy, but noticed Mercy glaring from across the dancefloor. She gave him a nod, a quick jerk of her head to show that she wasn’t going to try to disembowel him tonight.

“Clark!” Jimmy’s voice made him turn. “I’ve got everything I need.”

There was no telling if the photographer had witnessed what had transpired between Clark and Lex Luthor – either way he acted no differently. “Let’s go?”

Clark looked back, searching the familiar red headed figure – but Lex was nowhere to be found, just as Mercy. “Yeah,” he smiled weakly at Jimmy. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to add a small continuation just for fun:)

Lex woke up to agony.

Well, that might have been an exaggeration, but Lex dealt in absolutes so a head ache slowly but methodically pounding at his temples and the whole feeling of…wrongness in his body warranted a ‘code red’. He groaned into the pillow, and then groaned again because of the disgusting feeling in his mouth.

He was still wearing a suit.

Oh yes…The party must have been a success, Lex thought.

He pushed himself up and off the bed, stumbling over the edge but managing not to face plant on the floor. He needed a shower. He stood on his feet, unsteady, and looked around. The room was as pristine as ever – the cleaning staff was notorious at fighting Lex’ messiness – with the obvious exception of the bed. A glass of water was waiting on the nightstand. Lex grabbed clumsily and drowned the whole thing in one go. That was good. That made him feel more like himself.

As Lex slammed the glass back on the table, something else caught his eye. A sheet of paper, blank, safe for two lines on the top. A LexCorp engraving at the bottom called for official business so he reached for it, disregarding how much he did not want to work. The content was surprising though.

A phone number. And a name.

_Clark Kent._

“Huh?” Lex peered at the paper as if it can reveal more secrets. “Kent…”

Something was nagging at the back of his mind, a thought that demanded to be acknowledged. The hangover was making it difficult but he was starting to recall something…

 _“Clark!”_ An enthusiastic shout. Nothing unusual that, Lex was always enthusiastic, especially when drunk.

_“Clarky!”_

“Oh…” Not good.

Lex squeezed his eyes, trying to shut down the memory, but his ears were ringing with his own voice, obnoxiously loud and demanding. He desperately needed to call for Mercy, but her patronizing would be the final nail in his coffin. He wouldn’t mind some babying right at that moment, but somehow she always skipped the good part and treated him like a child who was suffering terrible consequences his own actions. She would be so condescending.

Still, the situation called for some clarification. He found a phone, still in his jacket pocket, and sent her a quick text. Then, preparing to his horrible fate, he perched on the edge of the bed, hiding his face in his hands. He needed a shower and some more sleep and then, maybe, he will feel human again.

“You called, boss?” Mercy appeared, quiet as usual. How can someone wearing those heels move so soundlessly?...

“What’s this?” He waved the paper at her, looking up through the curtain of hair.

Her little smirk told him everything she thought about his current condition. Stupid. Pitiful. Why was he employing her again?

“A phone number, Sir.”

“I can see that,” he replied tersely, in no mood for games.

“It’s what you asked for.” She shrugged. “Last night.”

“Clark Kent’s number.” Lex said slowly, each word tasting sour on his tongue.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I believe you had a deal with him, Sir.”

Lex narrowed his eyes in suspicion, half expecting the whole thing to turn out to be a joke. But Mercy was not the type for jokes.

“Care to elaborate?”

“Apparently,” she glanced away, fighting a smile. “You really wanted to take Kent home. Or at least make out with him right there. Kent, however, was a perfect gentleman and told you to call him in the morning if you were still interested.”

That explained the mortifying memory of Lex trying to climb Kent like a tree. Metaphorically and literally. Mortified Lex released a pitiful whine and looked down at the sheet of paper. He had crumpled it up in a fit of agitation and now he tried to smooth out the corners just to have something to do.

“So are you, Sir?”

“What?” He asked distractedly.

“Still interested?” Her tone was too casual and Lex could easily understand the underlying warning. Was he though? Interested in Clark Kent…probably. The man’s alter ego, however, was not a simple issue. Lex’s gaze ran over the lines; he contemplated but it was all just pretend. He knew the answer as soon as he saw the numbers. He shrugged and Mercy heaved a sigh. She too, knew the answer already.

“I’ll leave you to it then.” She said and turned to leave. “Just…be careful.”

Lex waited until the door closed behind her to dial the number.


End file.
